


vance joy

by MonsterParade



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Breeding, Come Inflation, Double Penetration, Oral Sex, Other, Tentacle Dick, and YOU are full of love and...riptide, just a little though, riptide tries really hard as a boyfriend he's full of hot air and love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonsterParade/pseuds/MonsterParade
Summary: The time for pawing each other in broom closets between shifts is over. It's time to bone down.





	vance joy

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for my lovely, wonderful friend Ama, who wanted Riptide with a human-reader insert!! Reader pronouns aren't specified, but they are AFAB, so be prepared for a vagina. Lots of sappy stuff and hand-holding as reader enjoys their first time with Riptide, and lots of transfluid, too!! I hope you enjoy, and thank you again, sweet Ama <3

Riptide is a tangle of limbs and a crush of teeth when he drags you back to his berthroom.  
  
Perhaps _drag_ isn't the correct word; the two of you are just slightly tipsy and clinging onto each other so strongly that he really half-carries you through the halls more than anything, pausing every dozen feet or so to mash his lips against yours in a desperate, clumsy press. It's as endearing as it is cold and wet- which is _very_. He needs some practice. But his spark's in the right place!  
  
"We're never gonna get there at this rate," you mumble against his mouth, trying not to smile and failing spectacularly. Riptide is clinging to you one-armed like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets you go, and his face is flushed an incredible neon purple in the places where the metal is thinnest, making him almost seem to glow. He's also very, very charged up, and he lets you know it by grinding his modesty panels against your clothed stomach, his teeth poking jagged out past his lips in concentration.  
  
"You're the one who was teasing me!" he complains, although he lets you take his hand and pull him along without much further protest. And yeah, he has a point-- maybe it _was_ a little mean to sit on his lap at Swerve's and grind on him like that. But who could blame you? He's so precious when he's flustered! He gets this goofy scrunched-up look on his face, like the one he has now, and this time has the bonus of apparently having been a tipping point for him, because he's _never_ taken you back to his room before.  
  
The time for pawing each other in broom closets between shifts is _over_. It's time to _bone down_.  
  
You lead him back to his own habsuite by the hand and stubbornly refuse to let him stop you for further kisses until you get to his door, no matter how much it pains you. At that point you step back, let him punch in his code, and then as soon as the door slides open you're jumping on him once more and the two of you are staggering backwards into his suite, grinding on each other again.  
  
"Babe," he whines, scooping you up into his arms and hauling you up onto the berth with him as he collapses. He nearly crushes you underneath his bulk for a minute, forgetting your size and vulnerability, and you have to squeal and thump his shoulders until he remembers himself and rolls off of you, patting at you hurriedly to make sure you're okay.  
  
"Oh! Sorry, sorry!"  
  
"I'm good," you wheeze. This sort of thing just comes with the territory when you're dating a _boat_ \-- particularly a boat who often happens to forget that the two of you are not the same species.  
  
When you don't crumple like wet newspaper from being squished, Riptide seems confident enough to continue putting that suppressed horny energy to good use, cramming himself onto the berth alongside you and pulling you against his chest. His motor hums contentedly, almost a purr as he nuzzles his face into your hair and rests it there.  
  
"You smell really good," he mumbles, petting along the neckline of your shirt like he wants to dip underneath it, but is unsure if he's allowed to proceed. You squirm and try not to laugh at the tickle of it, deliberately sliding your knee between his thighs to rub against his modesty panels. Your distraction works-- Riptide immediately forgets the tickling as his fingers seize against you, his moaning into your hair so close to your ear that it makes you shiver. _God_ , that makes you feel powerful.  
  
"Can I- are we gonna-?" he asks, unashamedly tilting his leg while he speaks to give you better access to his panels.  
  
"Gonna what? Interface?"  
  
The word feels a little foreign on your tongue, but it _certainly_ gets Riptide's attention, and you break into a grin as his pretty yellow eyes go all wide and hopeful, his fingers trailing along your neck again and poking around under the back of your shirt to mess with your bra strap.  
  
"Yeah! Or I mean, we could at least, you know..." he says, and makes an attempt to playfully snap the fabric against your skin, "You know?"  
  
You peer up at him from where you're smushed against his chest and try to keep a straight face, looking up at those puppy-dog eyes of his.  
  
"You wanna fool around, baby?" you ask sweetly, and relish the sound of his vents stuttering in response as you rub the flat of your palm over his steadily-warming panels. He makes a pitiful whining sound-- _"Yes!_ "-- and you just can't help but to start laughing, pressing little kisses over the Autobrand on his chest and squeezing his wrist with your free hand.  
  
"You gonna pop those panels for me, then?"  
  
To be honest, you have...not that much of an idea of what you're getting into, precisely. It's not like you two haven't felt each other up in the past, because you _have_ , but only sort of over-the-clothes, clumsy and excited and usually in places where it was risky to do so. You've made out against probably half the walls in this ship at this point! But it never progressed past that, and you're just...just a tiny, _tiny_ bit nervous about finding out exactly what he's got going on down there.  
  
Not as _excited_ as you are about it, though.  
  
"Uh- already?" Riptide asks, although you can see the conflict on his face as he squirms against you. His optics look a little hazy, the way they usually do after you're done kissing the daylights out of him, and he reaches down to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt, his lower lip pinched between his teeth. "I mean- don't you want me to, uh, help you out too?"  
  
"There'll be time for that! I wanna see you," you wheedle, making sure to pout your lips at him for extra effect. His optics fix unerringly in on the way your lip gloss makes them shine, and when his face relaxes into that big silly grin you know you've got him hook, line, and sinker, if you'll pardon the fishing pun.  
  
" _Hhhhhokay_ ," Riptide says, and that's all it takes for him to wiggle down into a more comfortable position on the berth and transform his panels back for you, his top row of teeth jutting out in a bashful, dopey smile. And honestly, he's so cute-- you actually have to take a moment to bury your face in your hands, your heart fluttering from the sheer force of that glowing affection. When you look back up, Riptide is waiting patiently, albeit looking a little confused that you haven't touched him yet, and you grin to yourself and lean against his belly, turning your gaze to his array to see what he's packing.  
  
It's-- oh my god.  
  
" _Babe!_ " you exclaim, delighted, as you reach down to run a fingertip along the neon purple _tentacle_ that's waving lightly between his legs. A _tentacle!_ And it's so _cute!_ Not the biggest thing you've ever had, but it's all wiggly and surprisingly soft when you cup your hand around it, textured with tiny little rubbery bumps all the way from root to tip, and as you feel along the underside of it you can feel Riptide shudder, a breathy moan working its way out of him.  
  
"Is that- is that a good 'babe'?" he asks, his eyelids drooping as you circle your fingers around the base of his-- what do they call it? Spike?-- his spike, and gently knead. "Oh, god, your hands are so soft!"  
  
"You're so cute. You're _so so cute_ ," you whisper in reply.  
  
The moment feels so tender, and you're afraid to break it, so you keep your voice soft and coo praises to Riptide as you work your way up and down his spike, adoring the strange slick metal and the way it bends around your fingers. The way it makes Riptide hiccup and bow up off the bed, grabbing for your hands.  
  
"Does that feel good, sweetheart? You're so handsome, I love you so much!"  
  
It's honest praise, but you also know a kink when you see one and the way Riptide pulses in your hand when you compliment him has you nearly giddy with glee, a pearl of pale pink fluid beading at the head of his spike and rolling down the tapered tip. You smooth it away with your thumb, and the tentacle pulses again and suddenly slides forward in your palm, growing in length as you watch.  
  
"Oh!"  
  
Well that's exciting! Yes, that make sense-- there's actually a little slit in the uncovered protoform between his legs that his spike is sliding out of, now that you look more closely. You bend your head down curiously to look, and when Riptide doesn't stop you you bring your free hand forward to feel at the edges of it, wondering if it stretches enough for you to get your fingers inside. It's hot-metal-warm and absolutely dripping, the spike in your hand starting to leak pre-fluid alongside it.  
  
" _Hnnnhg-_ " Riptide says, his eyes narrowing to a squint as he brings his knuckles up to his mouth to bite them. He lightly bucks his hips and you can hear the metal between his teeth creak with the force of his jaws as he stares down at you, thrilled and dazed. " _Mhh!_ Yes, please, please-"  
  
Something new moves, and you look back down, and before your eyes Riptide's slit seems to swell before the lips of it part and _another_ tentacle slips its way out alongside the first, matching the other and curling clumsily around your wrist when it brushes against your skin.  
  
"How many do you _have_ in there?" you ask, feeling your heart skip in your chest. Your face is feeling _really_ hot, all of a sudden-- although that could just be the heated slide of metal pressing in around your hands, making your skin tingle as Riptide whimpers to himself again and digs his fingers into the berth.  
  
"Just two. I- I think."  
  
Two's plenty. Two's _perfect_ , two is just the right number for you to be able to grab one in each hand and teasingly start up a rhythm, up one and down the other, reverse, repeat, adoring the way Riptide chokes on his own glossa and shoves half of his hand into his mouth to muffle his squeal. It gives you plenty to work with as you finally pull away from him, hand shiny with lubricant, and reposition yourself to straddle his waist as best you can, still fully-clothed and teasing him with the friction of your jeans against his spikes.  
  
" _MMmng hmn gnnd,_ " Riptide groans around his own fist, his free hand thumping the berth. You have to work really hard to fight back your grin, ducking your head so he can't see the delight on your face when you lean up and onto his chest to nuzzle in against his plating. He's drooling on his own fingers. He's so fucking adorable.  
  
"Can't understand you, honey," you tell him, teasing your fingertips against the cabling of his neck. Riptide pulls his hand out of his mouth and pants at you, his frame rattling a little underneath you. He grabs hold of your hips and tries to urge you down on him.  
  
" _Dooon't_ tease me!" he exclaims, his optics unfocused as his hand fumbles for your zipper. "I mean-- please, let me see you, how do these--"  
  
In the interest of keeping your pants all in one piece (and totally not just because you're just as horny as he is), you oblige him with a giddy smile and an eager wiggle of your hips, leaning up onto your knees and letting him support you so you can wriggle out of your jeans and throw them aside onto the floor below, letting heated metal nudge gently against the damp fabric of your underwear as Riptide testingly rocks his hips.  
  
"You're wet already," he says, sounding a little choked. His optics are unfocused but glittering with desire, half-lidded and watching the slow slide of his spikes between your thighs while you keep your eyes on his face and try not to shudder with the friction.  
  
You should probably be taking this slower. You should probably have a real date, a nice, real date right before you do this with him for the first time, not a raucous karaoke night at Swerve's where you both get tipsy on engex and whatever mysterious organic liquor Swerve had smuggled on-board just for you-- you should probably kiss for longer, and take your time, and do all those good romantic things but that doesn't feel as _good_ and _right_ as getting his hands on you _right now_ , watching him pinch his tongue between his teeth as he focuses on fitting both of his spikes into the space between your legs.  
  
You're both overcharged and overeager and a little bit clumsy, but it's _good_ , because you grab one of his hands as you settle back down against him and help him slide it up your shirt so he can cup your breast in his palm, rubbing his thumb over lace and satin. He groans, low to himself, and lets you rock yourself against his spikes at your own pace. Teasing him with wet fabric, trying to find the angle that will rub those little bumps on his array the most firmly against your clit.  
  
"Am I--" He swallows thickly, "Am I even gonna be able to fit these in you? You're so _little_..."  
  
He doesn't sound worried, just over-aroused and foggy, so you take his other hand between both of yours and kiss his knuckles, grinding your hips down against him to show him just how interested you are in _making_ those spikes fit.  
  
"We will if you stretch me first," you reply, trying for smooth and seductive but ending up somewhere that has your voice hitching instead as one of the tentacles curls. Riptide licks his lips and squirms, starting to grin at you again.  
  
"Can you take those off then? ...Do those even come off?"  
  
You hiccup a laugh.  
  
"Yeah, they come off."  
  
You demonstrate for him eagerly and peel off your panties too, tossing them away and holding yourself up on your knees above him so his spikes can't quite touch you yet.  
  
Riptide watches you like he's hypnotized, his engine whining a high-pitched counterpoint to the moan that rumbles in his chest.  
  
" _Slag_ ," he mumbles, his mouth hanging open a little as he reaches a hand out for you and brushes against your thigh, feeling out the softness of your skin before he moves his fingers a little lower and rubs two of them through the slick at the crux of your thighs. He's more gentle than he needs to be, obviously working very hard to be careful and touching you so, _so_ slowly, and it's sweet and a little embarrassing at the same time, your legs shivering as he parts the lips of your labia and rubs you with his thumb.  
  
"You look _so_ \-- can I eat you out?" he asks, feeling around with the pads of his fingers and bumping you with his knuckles, endearingly clumsy. You feel yourself start to blush despite yourself, really, properly blush, and glance back and forth between his hand and his mouth as you try to decide which is enticing you more. That's _so_ tempting, but--  
  
"Can you? I mean, your _teeth_ , honey," you begin in reply, rolling your hips down on his fingers, and you cut off with a tiny whimper as Riptide's index finger finally finds your entrance and starts to nudge against you, deliberately teasing. Riptide laughs and smooths his other hand across your chest, staring at you with glittering eyes.  
  
"Of course I can! I mean, I know how to be careful, I've bit my glossa enough times to learn how to mind 'em. Is that a yes?"  
  
"Fuck-- yes, it's a yes from me."  
  
Riptide pulls his hand out from between your legs eagerly to reposition you, 'aww'ing at your grumble of disappointment and guiding you upwards until you're perched just above his chin on your knees. It's... a little bit embarrassing, to have him admiring you from this close-up, but it's also _incredibly_ flattering to watch him bite his lip and shakily exhale, his hands coming up to rest against your back and give you something solid to lean against.  
  
"Sit on my face," he demands, and it's almost more of a plea, as his thumbs rub circles into your shoulders and his engine thrums underneath you. You try not to squirm as he nudges you with his hands, embarrassingly fixated on his glossa where you can see it flashing between his teeth.  
  
He doesn't need to breathe. He weighs a hundred times more than you, and he's more than capable of moving you if he decides he needs to; there's no _danger_ in it, you decide, and you're also pretty sure that if you _don't_ get the chance to have him lick you out you're just going to catch on fire and die on the spot. It's way too much to resist.  
  
"Okay," you weakly relent, and just manage to catch the grin on his face before he's scooting you upwards on him and you're sinking down onto the soft warm curve of his mouth as his glossa flicks out to catch you. You gasp almost immediately, scrambling for something to hold as you wrap your hands around the fin on his head-- he's already as close to your size as he can get, mass-displacement bringing him down to nearly minibot-height, but his tongue is still so much bigger than a human's and it's so _different_ , drier but smoother, too, with what almost feels like _ribbing_ where the damp metal curves and moves.  
  
Riptide curls his hands around your waist and digs his thumbs into the flesh just above your hipbones and holds you down against him, groaning enthusiastically as he begins to lap at you. You close your eyes and just relax into it, pleasure curling up your spine and warming your skin as Riptide rolls his glossa against you. You're already embarrassingly wet, you could feel it before he even started, and you just _know_ your arousal is smearing onto Riptide's face as you grind your hips and try to ride his tongue, silky metal mesh nearly covering the entirety of your sex with every eager pass.  
  
True to his word, he minds his teeth well and doesn't so much as nick you, although you can feel the smooth press of them every so often against your bare thighs. It's actually really, _really_ exciting to know that he _could_ hurt you, but he _doesn't_ , that he's so in love with you that you don't even have to fear a _scrape_ from teeth that could snap you in half between them.  
  
Makes a person feel real taken care of.  
  
" _Fuck_ me," you mutter, petting along the length of the fin on Riptide's head while he very carefully pulls your labia into his mouth and _sucks_.  
  
Riptide pulls away after a moment with a faint 'pop'.  
  
"Do you want me to?" he asks, his voice muffled from between your legs. You can feel his lips moving against the insides of your thighs, and it makes you giggle, trying not to squirm from the sensation.  
  
"God-- yes," you say, even as you have to force yourself not to chase after his tongue and that hot, rolling friction, "Yes, _please_ , I need you to spike me already before I _actually die_. We'll just-- we'll just go slow. One at a time?"  
  
Riptide lets you scoot yourself back down on him until you can see his eyes again, his optics lit up-- literally-- with the charge that hums beneath his plating. He kisses your pubic mound and then grins at you again, transparently eager.  
  
"One at a time," he agrees.  
  
__________________________________  
  
One at a time is harder than you'd thought.  
  
It's not that it _hurts_ ; it doesn't, as Riptide eases the head of his first spike into your pussy and moans above you as he slowly presses you open, his hands clutching yours. No, it's that it's hard to _wait_ , hard to feel the second tentacle grinding, neglected, against your lower belly and smearing lubricant over your skin while you know just how stuffed you could really be. It's hard to be patient, even while you gasp and whine with every little bump that catches on the rim of your sex as Riptide works his way in. You try to roll your hips up to meet him, the rubbery tentacle wet and hot and shockingly easy to sink onto. It gets thicker the closer you get to the base, stretching you wider and wider.  
  
" _Riptide_ \-- c'mon, c'mon, move _please_ I need to--"  
  
You need to cum so badly already. You're not even embarrassed about it, not with Riptide panting on top of you and arching his back like he's never felt anything as good as the silky press of you. You wouldn't be surprised if he started drooling, with the way he lets his mouth hang open while he ruts against you.  
  
"Yeah?" he asks in reply, but it's distant, and it takes him a minute for your words to actually sink in and spur him into motion past his reflexive little thrusts. He finally draws himself out, almost halfway, and then you don't have much time to even luxuriate in the slide of his retreating spike pulling on the walls of your sex before he's pressing back in, hilting himself again and jolting you on the bed as his hips bump against yours.  
  
It's _slow_ and _hard_ and _deep_ , and as Riptide slowly finds his rhythm you can't help but start to moan, shaky little exhalations that are almost lost beneath the noises of sex against sex. You squeeze his fingers encouragingly and raise a leg to hook it around his waist, shifting him even deeper. The change in position makes you jolt with pleasure.  
  
"I love you," he tells you, his face scrunched up in that cute goofy way again as the tentacle inside you curls and makes you clench down on him reflexively. You squeal in reply, toes curling, and he leans in to kiss you as best he can, hunched over on top of you to reach your lips. You respond in kind and release one of his hands to tease along some of the plating on his side, dipping into wires underneath.  
  
"I- I love you too!" you mumble against his mouth.  
  
God, you're so in love with him it's not even funny. You even catch your hand sliding up to hover over his spark chamber, almost longingly, thinking that if you were a Cybertronian too, you could bare that most important part of yourself to him and let the glow of your soul do the talking for you. Show him how you shine for him. As it is, this is about the best you can do.  
  
" _God_ , _hnh_ , come on, baby," you urge him, wiggling your hips and squeezing around him to draw out a strangled moan, "Both of 'em now. I can take it! Please, I don't wanna cum until--" You cut off as a particularly solid thrust leaves you shaking against the mattress, but thankfully Riptide gets the gist, interpreting your moan as the approval it is and reaching down for his second spike with a shaky hand. He tilts your head and kisses your neck and you melt, feeling the second tentacle start to nudge against your sex alongside the first. It's going to be a tight squeeze.  
  
Riptide goes carefully, even though he shivers with exertion, and he stares down at you with adoring, half-lidded eyes as the head of his second spike finally squeezes inside, pressed tight and hot to the other and to the walls of your throbbing pussy. You nearly keen, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle it. It's so _much_ \-- the second tentacle inches deeper, and it's just so much, so _tight_ and so _good_ and you're bucking against him helplessly, aching from the stretch. It's exactly what you wanted.  
  
"Are you-- okay?" Riptide pants, stilling for a moment to let you adjust and just letting the sporadic twisting of his spikes do the work of loosening you up further. You can feel him pulsing inside you, each little twitch making you bite your lips and clutch at him, and you think he's probably as close as you are, his cooling fans working overtime to disperse the heat clinging to his frame.  
  
"I'm good, I'm _great_ , just don't stop, please!"  
  
Riptide watches you with his optics shining, a doofy smile on his face that looks so lovestruck it makes your heart pang. You throw your other leg around his waist too and grind your hips up against him, your words failing you as you're absolutely stuffed to the brim and the pressure of it forces you dangerously close to orgasm. You're right on the precipice-- if he moves properly, if he moves just a little more, you're going to lose it right there, your clit throbbing from neglect. You whimper pathetically and close your eyes.  
  
Riptide drops his face into the crook of your neck and groans, one hand tangling into your hair and the other still laced with the fingers of yours.  
  
You can feel every inch of him when he finally draws back; slowly, achingly slowly, each bump on his array dragging against your rim as his spikes throb and curl around each other,  
  
and then he slams himself back in in one quick thrust that forces you open again, the tips of his tentacles pressing against the back of your cunt, and he closes his jaws around your neck and makes a sound that's very nearly a growl as he starts to fuck you with desperate speed, harder and faster and faster and faster--  
  
You cum around him with a pitiful wail, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you nearly arch up off the bed if not for Riptide's frame above you, pinning you down as you shake and jolt with thumping pleasure that makes you shudder around him, stretched too wide for your pussy to do more than gently knead his spikes. You jerk your hips, rubbing your clit against his plating to prolong your orgasm as you writhe, and that seems to be more than enough for Riptide as he whimpers into your throat and finally spills himself inside you.  
  
You nearly white out for a minute. When you come to, dazed and light-headed and tingling with the delicious aftershocks of it, Riptide is still cumming, clamped onto you like a vice as excessive transfluid makes your stomach bulge as it fills you up, nowhere else to go with his spikes still hilted inside you. You whimper with over-stimulation, gently rocking your hips to help him along.  
  
Riptide finally collapses against you once he's absolutely spent, gritting his teeth as he eases himself out of you with as much care as he can muster. It makes an obscene shlicking sound as his spikes slide free, and you moan weakly once more, his transfluid oozing out of your cunt in thick drips that run out onto the berth.  
  
Riptide rolls himself far enough to the side that he won't crush you, and then gives up, going completely strutless cuddled up against you with his glossa gently soothing the marks he'd left on your neck. He intersperses it with kisses, gentle and lingering and half-unconscious. You grope near-blindly for his hand again.  
  
"I _love_ you," you mumble, afterglow dragging you towards sleep just as quickly as him, "I love you... _so_ fucking much, 'Tide."  
  
You don't quite catch what he slurs against your throat in reply, your eyes drooping closed as you both snuggle in with the last of the energy you have left, but his voice is soft and tender and you _know_ what he means,  
  
He loves you too.


End file.
